


The Good, the Bad and the Fluffy

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Case, Developing Relationship, M/M, Nudity as a Distraction Tactic, Sam Winchester and Dogs, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Dean and Sam are working a case when a four legged friend turns up at their motel room.





	The Good, the Bad and the Fluffy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to sarasaurussex for their incredibly adorable art, [which you can find on Tumblr here](https://sarasaurussex.tumblr.com/post/185768259673/the-good-the-bad-and-the-fluffy-wincest-reverse). I absolutely loved it when I first saw it and I'm really happy I was able to write a story for it.
> 
> Thanks to [Hermit9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermit9) and [alyndra](https://alyndra.dreamwidth.org/) for beta reading my fic and helping me iron it out.
> 
> And thanks to the WRB for running this bang again <3
> 
> So, without further ado, here's...
> 
> _The Good, the Bad and the Fluffy: Saving People, Sniffing Things, the Family Business_

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Dean said, slipping on his jacket again. “I need to see something that isn’t the inside of a motel room… But you sure you wanna stay put?”

Sam looked up from his laptop. A wall of books surrounded him—they were too late to talk to local law enforcement or head to the mortuary, but Sam could still read and hunt the web, check a few police databases for the recent deaths in the town of La Grange, Missouri…

“Yeah, yeah. I might as well get a start.” Sam smiled and then lowered his eyes, suddenly feeling bashful.

What was between him and Dean was new and old at the same time. Since Dad had died, something had broken inside both of them. Something had jarred loose inside both of them. Probably the thought of John's judgement had he known his sons felt more than brotherly love to each other. Sam couldn’t remember who had kissed first.

Dean had been standing over the Impala, cuts healing, the car looking fucked to hell and back, metal bar in hand. Sam had walked up to Dean, scared that he’d take a swing, but instead Dean had turned to him at the sound of his steps and walked to him, dropping the metal bar he’d beaten the Impala with. Dean stood in front of Sam, chest heaving, stare eating into Sam’s heart and then they’d been one. Mouths together, breathing hot and desperate as years of misery, hurt and need had cascaded through the both of them.

Breath catching at the memory, Sam looked up to Dean who now stood beside the motel table, hand resting on top of a pile of books.

“You okay?” Dean asked, voice husky, clearly picking up on the kind of place Sam’s mind had wandered to.

With a power of will Sam did not know he possessed, he shrugged and leaned away from Dean. “I’m fine, just wanna find out what’s killing people is all.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, but he pushed away from the table and headed towards the motel door. “If you’re sure. Call me if you change your mind about tonight. And get something to eat, huh?” Dean flashed Sam a smile, making Sam’s stomach swoop.

And then Dean was gone, the motel door closing behind him and leaving Sam all alone with his laptop, books and thoughts. For a moment, Sam stared at the door, but then he heard the Impala’s engine roar to life and Dean was off. Rationally, Sam knew Dean would be back soon enough, but he warred with himself over the need for space and the need to be touched by Dean. To be reassured that everything was real and that this wasn’t some kind of dream.

Sighing, Sam looked to his laptop screen and started poking around the local sheriff’s computer systems, careful as he worked. After a time, he finally found what he really wanted: crime scene photos and photos of the half dozen victims.

There was bruising around the first victim’s neck, dark enough to show up in the photos. Daisey Harrod looked like she’d been strangled, but the black goop around her nose and ears suggested something that wasn’t human. He and Dean really needed to get to the morgue and check the bodies, because Sam was pretty sure the faint traces of black goop he was seeing in the photos were traces of ectoplasm.

No human had killed Daisey. The next victim, Giles Williams, had the same marks on his otherwise pale neck. The goop was harder to see around the dark, Goth-like lipstick he had worn, but Sam was pretty sure he could see some around his nose and ears. The other four victims were the same—same marks, same mysterious black goop.

“But what connects them all?” Sam wondered out loud as he rubbed his eyes and picked up his favorite reference book on ghosts. If having a favorite book about ghosts was a thing. He was reading _Spirits for the Ages_ ’ section on ectoplasm when he heard a sound from outside his room.

A bash and rolling clang, like something had knocked over a trashcan or something outside. Sam looked up and instinctively reached for his gun. He got up from the table and released the safety, slowly stepping around the motel room's twin beds.

He peered through the curtains drawn across the room’s windows and looked outside into the darkening gloom. There was nothing moving outside. And then Sam saw it, a fluffy tail slipping behind one of the other guest’s cars.

Swallowing hard, Sam opened the motel room door. He peered outside and looked around the parking lot, but saw nothing else moving. The only sound were cars moving along the distant highway and the odd bird chirping as it settled for the night.

Sam let out a long breath.

A whine came from beneath him and Sam looked down to find a Labrador, a juvenile one, standing at his feet.

“Woof!” the dog barked, tail wagging enthusiastically, thumping against the ground.

“Uh, hey there, boy. Where’s your owner?” Sam looked from side to side. There was no one else in the lot.

The dog barked again and Sam stood back, holding the door open for the golden-haired creature.

The dog padded in without further prompting and Sam put the safety back on his gun, stuffing it down the back of his pants. Reaching the motel room phone, Sam called the reception to ask if anyone had lost a dog and reported it.

“So it’s in the room with you now?” asked the male clerk on the front desk.

“Yeah. Has anyone reported missing a dog? It doesn’t have a collar.” Sam looked to where the Labrador was watching him from beside the table.

“We do allow dogs… but none of the other guests have reported missing one.” The clerk huffed out a breath. “Best thing you can do is bring it to me and I’ll find somewhere here for it to stay-”

Sam butted in, “Actually, if it’s okay, I’ll keep watch over him or her…”

The clerk sucked in a surprised breath and Sam could practically hear the guy shrug on the other end of the line. He’d probably dealt with weirder at his business than a guy wanting to look after a dog. “Okay, you hold onto it for now. I’ll let you know if anyone comes asking around. Otherwise, take it to the vet’s in town in the morning and see if it’s got a microchip.”

“Right. Thanks.” Sam hung up and his stomach growled. He looked to the dog who was happily sitting by the table, panting lightly and looking pleased with itself.

“So, do you like pizza?”

The dog barked and came over to Sam, snuffling at his left hand and licking it. Sam chuckled at how the lick tickled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

***

Normally Sam ordered himself something with lots of green on it—spinach, olives, green peppers and chicken—this time he went for the meatiest pizza the local delivery place made. Sam’s new friend was snuggled up beside him on the bed, chewing the pieces of ground beef and pepperoni that Sam kept feeding the dog by hand.

“I think I’m gonna call you… Buddy,” Sam said to the Labrador. He’d gotten glimpse earlier that suggested that Buddy was a boy.

The dog looked up and back towards him, and started to thump his tail.

“Buddy it is.” Sam fed Buddy another slice of pepperoni. “You know what, Buddy? I’m kind of hoping that you don’t really have an owner. No offence.”

“Woof!”

“I hope we don’t find a chip and no one’s put any posters up about you, or responds to the posters I’m going to put up. It’s a small town, after all.”

“Woof, woof!”

“Might have to work on Dean, though. He’s not the biggest fan of dogs.”

“Aroo?” Buddy howled a little and thumped his tail harder.

“Hey, hey. It’s fine. We’ll work something out. But we’re on the road a lot, you know? And there’s a lot of danger…”

Buddy booped Sam’s thigh with his nose.

“Right, we’ll work something out.”

The two of them sat on Sam’s bed, eating pizza while Sam flicked through _Spirits for the Ages._ He wasn’t going to get much more done tonight and he was thinking of how he could win Dean round to Buddy, in case Buddy’s owners didn’t turn up.

“We could get a blanket for you, for the car, or something,” Sam suggested as they chilled out on the bed. Sam’s left hand was carefully scratching between Buddy’s ears. “Then the seats won’t get messed up.

“But you won’t be able to really come on hunts with us much. You’ll have to stay back or something. Unless you think you can fight?” Sam looked down at Buddy who twisted his head back at Sam and sniffed the air, clearly wondering if there was more pizza. “Hmm, no, I don’t think you’re going to be much of a fighter. But we could teach you how to track? Maybe you could help us find people and things? That’d be super helpful and Dean will like that you help out…”

The more Sam spoke to Buddy about a life with him in it, or thought about it, though, the more Sam realized that having a dog that was with them on hunts would be an impractical thing. How would Buddy stay safe? Would they have to lock him up in the Impala all the time, or in motel rooms? What about motels that didn’t allow dogs? That was most of them! Sam started to have serious doubts about having Buddy stick around, even though he loved the idea of having a dog now as much as he had back when he’d run off and adopted Bones.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Sam and Dean were the kind of people who actually had a home that wasn’t on four wheels, Sam thought sourly. At least then they might have neighbors or friends who could look after Buddy. Or a kennel they could drop him off at.

“But that would be unfair,” Sam thought glumly as he gently stroked Buddy.

The room brightened as car lights shone against the curtains and Sam heard the familiar rumble of the Impala. Dean was back, and a lot earlier than Sam had been expecting.

“Quick!” he said to Buddy, jumping off the bed and urging the dog with him. Sam herded Buddy into the bathroom and closed the door, imploring Buddy to stay quiet until he had had a chance to talk with Dean.

Sam glanced back to the bed and grabbed the pizza box to shift it somewhere else when there was a knock at the door. He dropped the box.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said, unlocking the door and waiting for Sam to pull back the chain.

“You’re back early,” Sam said as he pulled the chain back. Opening the door, Sam took in Dean, heart fluttering a little to have him back. Dean’s cheeks were rosy, but he’d clearly not had many.

“Ah, well, bar seemed less fun without you there,” Dean offered, stepping into the room proper. Without warning, Dean started making his way towards the bathroom and Sam panicked, struggling to stay calm and catch up with Dean as his brother made his way towards the door and opened it.

“Hey,” Sam pulled Dean to him, turning his brother in his arms, cusping the back of his neck and kissing the side of his jaw, “I missed you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Buddy slink away from the bathroom, staying out of Dean’s line of vision and sliding under Sam’s bed. Dean didn’t seem to notice any of this, instead he kissed Sam softly on the lips and smiled.

“Missed you too… maybe… you could lose a few layers, hm?” Dean suggested, pulling back and heading into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him.

Sam turned to the bed, where Buddy’s snout was sticking out from underneath. He distantly heard Dean going about his business and Sam knew it wasn’t going to take Dean long to be ready. Panicking and unsure what to do, blanking on how to explain Buddy just yet, Sam started stripping and was down to nothing, but before he could do anything else, Buddy crawled out from under his bed and buried himself under the quilt.

“Sammy, seriously, it wasn’t the same,” Dean opened the bathroom door, “without you.”

Diving towards the bed, Sam tried to keep the lump that was Buddy out of Dean’s line of sight. He kept his best (read: worst) poker face on, trying to act like he didn’t have a Labrador puppy hiding under the bed covers.

“I was getting a little bored.”

Dean looked to Sam, eyes narrowing. “Sam,” he stepped to the bed and climbed onto it, “what’s going on?”

Sam gave an audible squeak as the lump that was Buddy squeezed out from under the quilt in the direction of the unfinished pizza box.

“Sam, what the hell?!”

Sam turned around and watched with Dean as Buddy got hold of the pizza box and buried his head inside of it. His tail wagged happily and there was the sound of messy jaws snapping up greasy carbs and spicy meat.

“Sam,” Dean said in a voice more calm than Sam deserved, as he looked over at Buddy, shoulder to shoulder with Sam, “why is there a dog in our room?”

***

Quite frankly, Sam was pretty sure that Dean’s calmness was on account of the fact that he had been loosened up by a few drinks. Sam had donned some sweats, as had Dean, and the two of them were sitting at the table as Buddy messed around with the empty pizza box.

“We can’t keep him,” Dean finally said, after sitting in silence for what seemed like forever.

Sam had been prepared for this, but hearing Dean say it out loud made his chest feel tight. “He doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

“He’s probably some family’s pet and they’re probably out looking for him right now.” Dean sighed. “Or he’s not a dog at all.” Dean got up, palming a flask from God-knew-where, and unscrewed the cap.

“Wait, Dean-”

“Here, boy,” Dean said in a friendly voice.

Buddy looked up from the pizza box, tail wagging, and trotted over to Dean, who proceeded to splash holy water over him. He shook his head and sneezed, gave a gentle woof and then trotted over to Sam.

“He passed that one,” Dean announced. He screwed the cap back on the flask and went over to their weapons duffle. “Keep him by you.”

“Dean, really?” Sam sighed, gently fencing Buddy in between his knees and scratching his head just so. Buddy’s tail happily thumped against the floor.

Dean came back over, canister of salt, iron shackles and silver coin in hand. “It’ll just take a minute.”

First Dean threw some salt over Buddy—no reaction of course—and then rubbed the silver coin against Buddy’s wet nose, making the dog sneeze again. The iron shackles also met Buddy’s nose and beyond more sneezing, there was nothing. No smoking, no yelping, no snarling. Buddy acted perfectly doglike.

“Okay, so Buddy appears to be a dog.” Dean sat back down, face falling into his hand as he leaned on the tabletop.

“Right.” Sam was still scratching Buddy’s head.

“We still can’t keep him.”

“I know. But he can stay here tonight, and tomorrow I can take him to a veterinarian and see if he’s got a chip. Then if he hasn’t, I’ll make some kind of poster and put them up nearby…”

“Seriously?”

“He’s not going to a pound, Dean.”

Dean’s lips thinned. “We came here to handle a hunt.”

“It’s a ghost. I don’t know whose, but it’ll probably be simple enough.”

“Whenever is it just simple for us?” Dean shook his head. “I don’t know a lot about dogs, but you better make sure he does his business before we go to bed.” Dean got up from his seat and headed back to the bathroom and that was that. Conversation over. Any chance of night time delights had been dashed away by four legs and a wet nose.

***

The trip to the local veterinarian the following morning was uneventful in that no chip was found. No, they didn’t recognize the dog. But one of the nurses took pity on Sam and helped him put together a poster and get prints that they could share around town. That a pair of FBI agents were concerned about animal welfare didn’t seem to phase anyone, especially when Sam stretched the truth about his time with Bones back when he was a kid.

Dean headed on ahead to the morgue while Sam put up the posters with Buddy in tow—new collar and leash on—and Sam tried to remember that Buddy wasn’t going to be staying with them. The number on the posters was from a burner they picked up specially, using some of Sam’s pool winnings from a few towns over.

At least putting up posters meant getting out of staring at ectoplasm on dead bodies, though Dean wasn’t impressed with being left alone to stare at bodies. He called Sam to say so.

“Why do you get to put up posters again?” Dean griped over his cell.

Sam was standing with Buddy just outside their motel, having circled the small town, putting up posters in likely places. He’d encountered a few other missing pet posters, but those had looked months old.

“Because you don’t like dogs.” Sam looked down at Buddy who quirked his head back at Sam as if he was shocked to learn that some people didn’t like dogs.

“Right. Well, anyway, the coroner thinks all the vics use to work at the same bar together, but the place closed down something like five years ago.”

“Why’d it close?”

“Big bar fight. Some young guy died, a Tyler Dunstan. Owner was sued… had to close and sell up to pay legal bills. That kind of thing.”

“So you think it’s the ghost of the this young guy? Why’s he’s going after former bar workers now?”

“I don’t read ghosts, Sam. I mean… If they were working there when he died, maybe he thinks they could have done something to prevent his death.” Dean sucked in a long breath and let it out. “There’s maybe one former worker left in town. Each of the other vics died in their homes.”

“We need to find them-”

“Her. And yeah, find her and the body at the same time. Keep her safe while we burn the body. Need to find them both first,” Dean pointed out.

Sam pulled Buddy back away from what looked suspiciously like some other dog’s aged turd that had been left on the sidewalk. “I’m back at the motel. How about you meet me here and I’ll find out.”

“Fine… want me to bring lunch?”

“Sure.”

***

“She lives just on the outskirts of town. Hayley Thomas,” Sam crunched on some cucumber. Buddy was near the door, sitting on the tiles there, munching on a raw steak Dean had magicked from somewhere.

Dean nodded. “Alright. We need to keep her alive and deal with the ghost.”

Sam met Dean’s eyes across the table, their knees bumping together affectionately. “I’ll go with Buddy and see if we can keep her in one piece. Won’t know until I get there whether I’ll need to tie her up for a bit, especially if she tries to leave. But rope burn’s preferable to death.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Fine. I’ll head to the plot you found, wait for darkness and take care of business.”

“I’ll need to, uh, borrow someone’s car to stake her place out.”

Buddy barked and looked up at Sam from his spot beside his partially chewed steak.

“We’ll leave the car somewhere they can find it. We’re just borrowing it,” Sam reassured Buddy.

***

Hayley Thomas’s home was as non-descript as the navy blue sedan Sam had borrowed. The house had white pebble dash, was small and compact—the upstairs likely only had one bedroom and a bathroom. Hayley had an assortment of flower pots on her porch, all with color spilling from them. There was a rocking chair as well, looking out over the small front yard. Sam could imagine the 30-something spending many a chill evening out on the porch in summer evenings.

It was the kind of home that Sam had started to think he would never have. But he didn’t begrudge the people they tried to help for having a normal life and he wanted to help it stay that way for them.

Buddy sniffed the air as Sam watched the house, pulling at the tie he was wearing as part of his Fed suit. Hayley had gone to the mailbox some twenty minutes earlier, having returned back from work. It was now dark out and Sam needed to get closer. Dean would be digging up the grave soon enough.

His cell started to vibrate and Sam pulled it out of his jacket pocket, hitting answer. “Dean?”

“You got an eye on Hayley?”

“I’m outside her house now.”

“Well, I’m at Tyler Dunstan’s grave, and I’m nearly done. You need to head in.”

Sam sighed. “Okay… stay safe.”

“You too.”

They both hung up and Sam pulled his satchel towards him. It had salt, rope, a sawed-off with rocksalt shells, and an old fire poker inside it. Putting his cell back in his pocket, he looked to Buddy and said, “Look, I need to take care of some stuff.” He looked to a slightly cranked window. “There’s a water bowl in the back… try not to make too much of a mess.”

Sam got out the car, closed the door and took one more look at Buddy. The dog snorted and settled down on a seat out of sight.

Reaching Hayley’s door, Sam knocked, hoping he wouldn’t have a hard time keeping her safe. The floorboards creaked inside and Hayley opened the front door, leaving it on the chain. She peered at Sam through the screen covering the doorway.

“Hi, Hayley Thomas, right?”

Flicking an auburn curl behind her ear, Hayley regarded Sam with suspicion. “Yeah. What do you want? No wait, I guess it’s about Daisey and Giles.”

Sam put on his best puppy eyes. “Yes, I am here about your former colleagues. The ones who recently died.” Flashing his fake FBI badge, Sam continued, “I’m Agent Hamill. Would it be possible to step inside and talk?”

Hayley looked at the badge one more time then nodded. She shifted the door, taking the latch off and held it open for Sam. Opening the screen door, Sam stepped inside and followed Hayley through her home, which was just as charming on the inside.

They went into the living room and Hayley sat on an armchair, legs curled under her. She picked up a cup of chamomile and looked at Sam. “What do you want to know?”

“Did something happen at the bar you used to work at together?”

“You heard about that?” Hayley shook her head. “Some regular, Tyler Dunstan, he… sometimes couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he’d been drinking. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person, an out-of-towner, and a fight started. Giles and Daisey tried to break it up, while I called the cops, but it was too late.”

“And the guy he started the fight with?”

“Jail.”

Sam nodded, rubbing his hands, realizing that the room was suddenly growing colder. Hayley frowned, head whipping around as her breath misted in front of her.

“You didn’t leave the front door open, did you?” Hayley asked, voice wavering.

Swallowing, Sam stood up, hand on his satchel. “No. I-”

The crackle of ice covering the windows confirmed all Sam needed to know, as Hayley shrieked and pointed at the ghost of Tyler Dunstan.

“Agent!” Hayley screeched.

Sam pulled the salt out of his bag and the fire poker. In two steps he was by Hayley’s armchair, putting a ring of salt around it before standing inside, poker at the ready.

“Stay in the circle,” Sam ordered. “It’s safe here.” Sam prayed to Dean to hurry the hell up.

Tyler didn’t look great as a ghost. The left side of his head was caved in, blood crusted over half his face. His eyes were white and his mouth wore a vicious smile. He didn’t say anything as he stepped towards the salt circle.

Suddenly the living room windows slammed up, opening, and a harsh breeze blew in. The salt shifted, blowing away and quickly scattering.

“Dammit!” Sam raised the fire poker, pulling out the sawed-off from his bag as well.

Tyler flashed in and out of existence, every return placing him half a foot closer and Hayley screamed. Sam shot at Tyler, making the ghost vanish with a frustrated cry. Then the ghost was beside him, throwing him across the living room.

Sam landed on a couch, making it sag, his brain feeling like he’d gone through a blender, the poker was gone from his hand. He scrambled to get up as Tyler advanced on Hayley.

There was a bark from behind and suddenly Buddy was running into the room, he dodged around Tyler and tried to distract him, barking loudly as Hayley tried to scramble away. The distraction worked and Hayley got behind Tyler and Buddy, heading for Sam.

Tyler raised a hand up, ready to attack Buddy and then the ghost screamed. Bright orange ash blurred the ghost’s form and then it exploded into fiery ash.

Buddy barked and Hayley stared on, dazed.

Hayley sat down on the couch and Sam walked over to Buddy. He patted the dog’s head fondly, glad that he wasn’t hurt.

“Your dog?” Hayley asked.

Sam shook his head. “Buddy’s a stray. He arrived outside my motel room last night.”

Looking up to Hayley, Sam saw a puzzled and concerned look warring on her face. She licked her lips and said, “Ghosts are real.”

“Yep.”

“How’d it, uh, y’know?”

“My brother, Dean, set Tyler’s corpse on fire.”

Hayley nodded slowly, taking it all in. She looked to Buddy and Buddy trotted away from Sam, over to her. Hayley reached out a hand and Buddy sniffed her, before booping her hand and allowing Hayley to start stroking his head. She said nothing of how Sam probably wasn’t FBI, she just seemed grateful to be alive.

“He likes you.” Sam smiled, packing his things away.

“He’s pretty adorable.” Hayley gave Sam a tired smile.

***

“I’m gonna miss that dog,” Dean announced as the Impala sailed along the highway. They had the front windows down and a mixtape on the stereo. Sam wasn’t paying attention to the music, instead he was staring out the window, watching the countryside rush by.

“Really?” Sam said, not looking away from the window.

Dean flicked the turn signal and after a moment, pulled the car up on the side of the road and cut the engine. “Really, Sam.”

Sam looked at his brother, who was all sincere, eyes wide and pleading. Sometimes Sam wondered if all Dean wanted was the hunting life. Sure there was a job to do, but Sam hoped that once they finally got the son of a bitch who’d killed their mom, maybe they could have some normalcy. Or as much as normalcy as two brothers in love could have.

“I just…” Sam let out a long breath. “Someday, maybe… we get to have a home. And a dog. Do the odd hunt. Have a life.”

Dean pursed his lips and gave a tight nod. “Someday would be good,” he finally said. Dean slid across the seat and reached out to Sam. He allowed Dean to cup his face and pull them both into a kiss. It was sweet and full of reassurance.

Pulling back, breaking the kiss, Dean nuzzled the side of Sam’s cheek. “But,” Dean continued, “We’ve got people to save. Demons to kill. Monsters to slay.” Sitting up, Dean studied Sam’s face, drinking in his reaction.

Sam stared back, unsure of the expression there in Dean’s eyes. A mix of longing and regret, but Sam wasn’t sure he could ask.

“C’mon,” Dean said, sliding back across the bench seat. He started the engine and after a moment, pulled away.

It was time to find another hunt to chase down.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on Pillowfort at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://www.pillowfort.io/dreamsfromthebunker), Dreamwidth at [hit_the_books](https://hit-the-books.dreamwidth.org/), Tumblr at [hitthebooksposts](https://hitthebooksposts.tumblr.com/).


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